To Crash and to Burn
by Vagabond1
Summary: Rather short first chapter. There will possibly be more once I figure out where it's headed - feedback is very gratefully accepted. Story involves vampires, perhaps a were or two, violence, most likely sex and the occasional frozen confection. Mheh.


Authors Notes & Similar Stuffs:  
Right. I'm fairly nervous about this fic. I came up with it in about half an hour the other night while watching some 50's love story on TV, hanging upside-down off the lounge – I get inspired at rather odd times. So off I went and typed up what may be the first chapter out of a few, depending on the reaction to this one. This is both my first fanfic that anyone other than myself and a select few have read, and it's also my first based on something other than a private manga or some horrible… horrible... I'm sorry, I just can't bear to go there. Let's just say I'm over that little stint now. #^-^#.   
I've only read one book relating to V: tM, and that was the original game book – I've done some other looking around for sources as well as read most of the other WW fics here, so I think I've got it down fairly well – enough to write a passable story, I'm hoping. If you find something glaringly stoopid please leave a comment or e-mail me or _something_. I'm rather eager for feedback. That's the greedy, attention-loving side of me coming out there, just ignore her, she'll go away soon.  
Anyway, enjoy. If you peoples deem it worthy, I'll continue. If not, I'll continue anyway and just not tell you. So there. *Raspberries*  
Oh yes. For you Americans, I'm Australian, so if there's any words or phrases that you don't understand, tell me and I'll translate. ^-^ It's a problem I run into now and then.

Disclaimer: No. I don't own White Wolf. Or Garbage. Or Myers, for that matter. I wish I did. But I don't. Face it mates, some of us will never be so lucky. *Sighs and continues search for money hidden under lounge cushions* 

****

Chapter 1

__

Blood and blisters  
On my fingers  
Chaos rules when we're apart  
Watch my temper  
I go mental  
I'll try to be gentle when  
When I grow up  
I'll turn the tables  
Don't take offence  
Can I make amends?  
Rip it all to shreds and let it go  
Rip it all to shreds and let it go  
**-Garbage, When I Grow Up**

Ash looked down at the long knife protruding out of her chest in surprise. It had been thrust into her body all the way to the hilt, sliding easily between her ribs and through the soft tissues of her lung. A slight stain of red blood spread around the white t-shirt she was wearing. She looked up at the sweating woman in front of her. It had been a tough fight, both of them grappling for an advantage over the other, rolling on the grass one second, fighting tooth and claw, and warily circling each other the next. And then this. She hadn't expected the tall, lithe woman in front of her to have a knife.  
Ash's shocked expression turned to one of indignant offence, her dark brows drawing together in a frown. "Well that wasn't very nice, was it?" she asked, piqued. Her hand rose up to grip the blade's handle and drew it slowly out of her body, raising an eyebrow at the woman's change in attitude – from smirking self-assuredness, to a quiet wariness. She'd obviously expected her victim to sprawl against the wooden fence and collapse, ever so dramatically. Seeing the girl steadily pull out the knife and listening to the soft sucking, sliding noise it made was not part of the script. Ash, however, was always one for a good melodrama – she'd come out top in her acting class, after all. When the large knife was extracted from her body, Ash held it up to the dim light shining from the half moon, high overhead and watched it gleam dully. "Hmm." She inspected it with a keen eye. "Nice craftsmanship. Mind if I keep it?"  
The woman stepped back, her movements jerky, but always watchful. She hadn't judged her quarry very well. Ash continued, "After all, I don't think you'll be wanting it. The dead usually don't." She raised her eyes from the examination of the bloody blade. The unknown stranger hissed at her, baring her elongated canines and lunged, hoping to catch the girl by surprise. No such luck – the kid easily dodged the uncontrolled leap and with a deft flick of her wrist, heads did roll.  
Ash smirked at the limp shape in front of her. "You'll never get ahead in life like this, you know…" she smiled at the pathetic attempt at a joke and giggled slightly. She laughed softly again and soon was leaning against the fence, trying to breathe between the giggling attack that had hold of her. She slid down the support and, with her arms on her knees, bent forward, hiding her face. The muffled noises continued, but now to a bystander, these were the whimpers of a softly sobbing child.

Ash didn't bother to worry about anybody finding her here, next to the body of a decapitated woman, the head on it's side in a newly formed rain puddle nearby, the eyes rolled back, a fearsome expression of horror on it's pale countenance. It was a very quiet area of the city, far from the slums and back alleys that so many haunted. This was the 'nice' area, where people with rich parents moved into and became rich parents themselves. The posh part of town, or the place Ash distastefully had named the 'RBA' – the rich bastards' area. People here didn't believe that murders happened 'in this part of town', and therefore had no reason to suspect that there was a dead woman and a crying girl in the bushes of their landscaped backyards. She was safe for now.  
A few minutes later she got to her feet, wincing at the pain in her chest. She roughly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, avoiding the sight of the smear of blood upon it.   
Rolling the woman over onto her back, Ash quickly went through the pockets on her black wool coat and black suede slacks. Set of keys, dark red lipstick, screwed up tissue, broken fine-linked necklace with a dolphin pendant, folded up piece of paper, wallet. Shoving it all into her own dark green cargo pants, she stripped the woman's jacket off, exposing her dark blue silk shirt and folded it over her arm. She also removed the corpse's earrings, two necklaces and all seven rings and stuffed them into another pocket. She'd never wear any of it, but it looked real and might get an all right price at a pawn shop. Leaving without a glance back she set quietly and swiftly over the manicured grass, moving away from the lit up windows of the done-up Queenslander in front of her and toward the gate in the white picket fence.   
She wouldn't be noticed, she never was. The people inside were to busy with their quiet little lives to pay attention to the dog barking down the street. Out, across the road and into the friendly shadows of a children's park. Sitting on one of the wet swings she lay the jacket over her knees and pulled out the paper. The vamp she'd run into had been more of a challenge than she'd expected. Then again, she hadn't expected to break into a vampire's house in the first place. It had seemed like an easy grab – rich house all deserted on a big property – who'd notice? She'd almost dropped the TV she had hold of when she saw the flicker of movement in the big, reflective window in front of her.  
She unfolded the slightly wet paper gently, careful not to smudge the printed ink on it. She knew all about the rich, poncy ponce vamps – all talk and stuff, but hated getting their hands dirty – left that to the big dumb ones. Some things were horribly cliched. She had to laugh at herself for that.   
She'd quietly put the TV down on the nearby table and turned slowly. Nothing. Warily, she'd made her way to the back door, hoping to get out before the lord of the manor got too mad. Too late. The lord had turned out to be a lady, just home from a night's partying. Ash corrected herself – these ones didn't party, they _socialised._ She snorted to herself and scanned the writing. It wasn't the dead one's hand, too masculine, all square and official. Lady muck was standing in the doorway when she entered the kitchen. She'd sneered, and made a comment about "never making it out of here alive, rat."   
"Ha," muttered Ash, scanning the official looking paper addressed to Ms. Lena Charleson, "showed her…" Ash had bolted through the house, only a short distance ahead of the late Ms. Charleson who was keeping up extraordinarily well. She'd slammed the side door open with her shoulder, dislocating it in the process. The pain was soon forgotten when the woman had jumped her, knocking them both to the ground and simultaneously popping her shoulder back in place. They'd scrabbled against each other, Ash managing to knock off the woman and taking off across the lawn. She'd known there was something not quite normal about the woman, but that's when she found out what she was up against – most mortals wouldn't have been able to keep up at the pace they were both running. Ash wondered why the dumb blonde hadn't caught on then as to the nature of her prey and why she was still being pursued through the neighbour's back yard, but the next tackle gave her the answer – a slight waft of blood and alcohol came from the hissing bitch's mouth.   
"No wonder she was drunk…" Ash grinned at the paper in front of her, it was the invite to the "soiree" the vamp had been at. Promising entertainment and "refreshments" Ash could guess what kind of party it had been. She folded the paper up and tucked it away, and pulled out the wallet. Four hundred and twenty-seven dollars sixty – small change for these blokes, licence – Lena turned out to supposedly be 28, some old movie tickets, a library card, three credit cards and a receipt from Myer's.   
'Good enough', she thought and hid it in another pocket. Standing up again she pulled the too big jacket over her ragged black shirt. It was comfortable, at least. She glanced at the horizon and the subtle shades that let her know bedtime was approaching. She pulled a pair of earphones out of one of the eight pockets in her pants and cranked up the volume on her discman. If it or the CD in it had been damaged in the scuffle, Ash would have been royally pissed off. As it was, they were both fine and she headed off to her van, just around the corner, silently mouthing the words to a song.   
She'd scope out the vamp's place the next evening.


End file.
